


Jeeves and Mr. Wooster's Revelation

by Niektete (therealfroggy)



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/Niektete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertie has a revelation in re. his faithful manservant. The life-altering kind of revelation. This was my first ever Jeeves&Wooster fanfic, yay! Nostalgia!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeeves and Mr. Wooster's Revelation

I'll tell you right away that the young Wooster is in possession of a rather sunny and cheerful disposish. Yes, as my man Jeeves has pointed out on several occasions – usually while referring to my would-be fiancés' disheartening qualities – I am a man with a positive outlook on life. Come rain, wind, enraged aunts or humiliation at the hands of my own valet; Bertram Wilberforce will come out of the soup smiling.

However, when one finds oneself at the top of the stairs at Brinkley Court, sopping wet and with two pairs of love birds laughing at one's expense, one hardly has reason to smile. Consider also that I had ridden nigh on twenty miles on a bike, falling off no less than six times, in a storm, and you have a set of circs which might make even a grown man hang his head in despair.

I said as much to Jeeves, when he'd wrapped me in a blanket and gracefully handed me a gasper.

“Sir, the beneficial effects of this plan -”

“You can go and boil the plan, Jeeves!” I sniffled, by that time rather dejected and feeling far from ooja-cum-spiff. “I'm the laughing stock of the entire house, I'll probably get a horrible cold from all this – that much exertion in one night can't be good for a man, I tell you! My favourite aunt, in fact, the _only_ aunt that I like, is probably pipped at me!”

Jeeves cleared his throat politely. “I wouldn't go so far as to agree wholly with you, sir. Mrs. Travers indicated she forgave you all, as did the others. The rainstorm was, I gathered, the redeeming punishment which lead the assembly to warmly welcome you back.”

“Well, still, overall _not_ a good day for the young master, Jeeves,” I said, rather pathetically. “And on top of it all, I hadn't even the support and heartening presence of you by my side, to take comfort in! Dash it, Jeeves! It's all well and good of you to pull me out of the soup, but I would rather you hadn't abandoned me before doing so!”

My voice, I'll admit, had taken on something of a plaintive and mournful quality. I sounded positively demoralized, and what's more, my words were distressingly true. What truly pained me, was not being laughed at, or the cold – Bertram Wooster does not flinch at such trifling troubles. No, what made me mope about like some slighted lady of good sensitivities, was the shock of not having Jeeves as a black constant by my side.

It's a rummy thing, I know, but one becomes accustomed to his presence. Why, when I saw him through that window, nipping delicately at a glass of something-or-other, while I was cold and soaking wet on the outside, in the dark, empty night...

Well, that makes for a good piece of imagery! Perhaps a bit common, but dark, empty nights are all the latest rage in the thriller novels. Something those d. and e. nights have been for as long as I've been reading the thriller novels in question, at that. Must be one of those ageless things, like chaps wearing trousers, or shirts being white.

Well, anyway, I saw Jeeves hugged to the the warm bosom of Aunt Dahlia's homestead, and I felt rather rum. I can't quite explain it, but I have never in my life felt more lonely. Not even when my parents died did I feel the sting of it more keenly.

And even now, back in my chambers with Jeeves dutifully adding a touch of green bath-whatsit to my foot bath, I still felt somewhat abandoned.

“You didn't even think to tell me what you were planning, Jeeves,” I said softly.

Jeeves was busy draping another blanket over my shoulders. “No, sir. I estimated that the fewer who knew about my plan, the fewer contingencies would arise. Are you dissatisfied with the results, sir?”

I shook my head glumly. “No, Jeeves, I am not. Dissatisfied would be the wrong word. I am... disheartened, is what I am. There's a certain thinginess to being left outside in the cold like I was tonight, Jeeves, and I dare say B.W. is none too fond of it!”

“Your family and friends, sir -”

“Stuff my family and friends!” I whined pitifully. “I'm talking about you, Jeeves! You left the young master in the dark, and stayed behind to make merry while I was suffering through the worst of falls, ditches, uphill paths and rain that this country has to offer!”

I was staring morosely ahead, so focused on my misery that I did not register a single thing Jeeves was doing. That is, until I felt his strong arms suddenly encircle me tightly in... well, in an embrace, there's no other word for it. For a few, confusing moments, my shoulder was pressed against his chest as he hugged me tightly to him, his nose oddly close to my ear.

My eyes boggled, and that was about all they had time to do before Jeeves had released me, rather yanking his arms off the old Wooster corpus as if, well, burnt! He stood up quickly, turning his head away.

“I apologise profusely, sir. It is not my place to take such liberties. If you desire my resignation, you shall have it,” Jeeves said, ever the image of a perfect manservant. Except for the slight tinge of colour to his cheeks, which rather shook me, I'll admit – almost as deeply as the embrace itself did. He looked... visibly shaken!

“Nonsense, Jeeves,” I said, my voice not exactly rock steady. “A friendly embrace from a good friend is just what a chap needs in trying times like these.”

But the impression of his strong arms around me hadn't faded, making the Wooster dial flame in a rather unmanly fashion.

Jeeves cleared his throat delicately. “Still, sir, it is not what is expected.”

I almost smiled at that. “Dash it, Jeeves. I will not accept any kind of resignation, and most decidedly not yours. But one does wonder, my man, why you...” I trailed off, not quite knowing what I intended to ask him. Why he had assaulted the Wooster person in such a friendly way? Why he had let go so quickly?

Why he wouldn't quite meet my eye?

“If that will be all, sir, I will lay out your sleeping attire,” Jeeves said, and his voice was once more smooth and polite, his face serene and undeci-whatsit.

***

I awoke some time near dawn, I should guess, on account of some horrible nightmare of riding a never-ending road going uphill, while chased by enraged aunts. I sat bolt upright in bed, panting wildly, and it actually took me a full minute to recover my wits and remember that I was in fact safely ensconced in my bed, not pedalling for my life. I noticed I was deadly tired.

I felt desperately for a glass of water, too. I must have been panting even in my sleep. Without bothering to reach for my dressing gown, I stuffed my feet in my slippers and walked sleepily to the bathroom. I'd already pushed open the door when I noticed a soft light filling the room.

The light appeared to stem from a single oil lamp, placed by the sink. The reason why there was a lamp even being utilized at this ungodly hour, turned out to be Jeeves – reclining in the bath, head tipped slightly backwards, the lamp light reflected in golden patches on his damp skin.

Now, our flat only has one bathroom, so it can logically be reasoned that Jeeves utilizes said bathroom, when we're residing in the metrop. I hadn't really thought about it before, but it certainly occurred to me now that the man must conduct his own baths somewhere, too. Just because I never saw him disrobe for a bath, didn't mean he never took one.

I'd just never seen him in the middle of it, so to speak. Thank God! The sight which met my eyes at that moment, was not one likely to ever slip the Wooster memory. Jeeves' broad shoulders leaning against the porcelain, his skin almost as pale as the bath itself...

Jeeves gave a small, contented sigh, clearly oblivious of my presence.

I gaped, making an undignified little squawking sound.

Jeeves, as if moving by instinct alone, stood up abruptly, splashing a minimum of water as he reacted to the sound of the young master by respectfully rising. His face was already a mask of polite enquiry, until our eyes met, and mine proceeded to follow his body southward, so to speak.

Apparently, my gentleman's personal gentleman wasn't the only one to, um, rise. The _little Wooster_ stirred and expressed an interest, dash it, and with an embarrassed yelp, I pivoted and ran back to my bedroom, all but diving back under the covers, all thoughts of water driven from my head.

The only thing I had registered before I dashed from the room, was the deep crimson flush colouring my manservant's visage.

I lay stiff as a board, if you'll excuse the phrase, in my bed, trying desperately not to think of what I had just seen. The Wooster anatomy was apparently at war with the Wooster mind; the former eagerly voiced its appreciation for valets in bathtubs, while the latter was wondering why in blazes the man was having a bath in the middle of the night.

“Sir?”

Jeeves, of course, had managed to present himself in a much more respectable state than I when he materialized in my bedroom mere moments later. His hair was smoothed back, although visibly damp and unkempt after his bath, and his dressing gown (which I'd never seen before; I'd never even realized he should have one) was tied neatly at the waist. Not a sliver of skin could be seen, save his neck, face and hands.

My face flamed hotter yet. “Um, yes, Jeeves?”

A slight pause. Then, “Did you require anything, sir?”

I avoided looking him in the eye, though I didn't quite know why. One chap seeing another chap in the altogether, well, it's not exactly the trumpets heralding Judgement Day, is it?

“No, er, Jeeves, I was just looking for a sip of the clear, um, H2-whatsit. Please, continue your, er, bath,” I stuttered.

Jeeves was silent for a moment, then slowly retreated. “Very good, sir.”

I could hear him mopping up the water in the bathroom. I did not dare follow him, not even to ask what in blazes he was doing, splashing about in the middle of the night.

***

It hadn't exactly done me much good, going back to bed as I did. Hearing Jeeves go about his quiet and probably very human behaviour in the bath, kept me awake. I fell to contemplation, and when those proclivities seize the Wooster mind – though it only happens once in a blue moon, of course – they often keep said mind quite busy for quite some time.

In fact, I spent the remaining hours until breakfast mulling over the fact that I had just seen Jeeves naked. Bare as the day he was born. Unwrapped, if you get me. After, of course, he had hugged me rather passionately. Questions were raised; questions which would not be satisfied until I'd answered them.

Why did I think about Jeeves naked, when I'd never done so before? The man's always struck me as rather dressed, what? Not the sort to let himself be seen in his shirtsleeves unless in the privacy of our kitchen, where he cooks and polishes the silver and so on. Dashed funny thing, that I should start contemplating his naked physique now when I'd never done so before.

And, of course, I was wondering what had possibly possessed Jeeves to embrace me like he did earlier. It wasn't the first time he'd seen this Wooster in any sort of trouble; far from it, and regardless of my situation earlier, Jeeves had never done more than incline his head sympathetically.

Most importantly, of course, I was wondering why my body bally well _refused_ to drift off to sleep, and why certain parts of my anatomy were particularly insistent about this not sleeping-business. Certainly, I'd had trouble sleeping when I was a young lad, infatuated with some beazel or other. And the physical reaction to a strong profile and secretive smile is not unfamiliar to me.

The trouble was, of course, that the Wooster body now seemed to include naked Jeeves in the Likely Causes For Uneven Distribution of Blood lot, if you get my meaning. This had never happened to me before, and so left me confused.

I was tempted to call for Jeeves to explain it to me, but reminded myself that it was hardly a gentlemanlike subject on which to expound.

I turned over to face the wall, frowning. This demanded further investigations. The only problem was, further investigations was usually Jeeves' forte, not mine.

A soft clearing of throat behind me alerted me to Jeeves' presence. I sat up, blinking disorientedly. It was quite light out; apparently, I'd been awake for hours.

“Your breakfast, sir,” Jeeves said, holding the breakfast tray like he did every day.

“Oh, well, rather,” I said, with a chipper smile that I'm positive Jeeves saw straight through. “Um, yes, thank you, Jeeves.”

He deposited the tray on my bedside table, then began gliding silently around the room, as he so often does, straightening even perfectly straightened pillows for no apparent reason at all. Still, the room always looks more immaculate after he's gone through it. Dashed rummy, that.

“What time is it, Jeeves?” I asked, sipping my morning brew with a nervous glance in Jeeves' direction.

My manservant straightened from where he'd been retrieving my slippers. “The hour approached ten when I left the kitchen with your tea, sir,” he said, sounding perfectly polite and tranquil. If that's the word I want; strange combination of letters, if you ask me.

“Ah, well, yes. And, um... Is it usually your habit, Jeeves, to have a splash about in the middle of the night?” I asked, rather curious, I'll admit. “I thought you weren't a nocturnal creature, more of a morning bird.” I smiled tentatively at him.

“It was nearly seven, sir, when I conducted my morning ablutions. I am afraid I had rather overslept.” Jeeves continued to move silently about, and I noticed my suit and shirt appearing by the foot of the bed.

“Overslept? Good heavens, man, what do you do all morning?” I asked, confused. Really, it seemed wrong, somehow, that my man should not even get a decent night's sleep, but have to get up and start polishing the silver at such ungodly hours of the morning.

Jeeves' lips curled ever so slightly. “I read, sir. Breakfast and a few simple preparations should not take more than an hour. When there are no other household tasks to complete, I often enjoy an improving book.”

Of course, this was so perfectly Jeeves that it made sense, even to a man as fond of his nightly forty winks as me.

“Well, then. ... Good heavens, I woke of my own accord at seven in the morning? I must be ill, Jeeves,” I said, trying to feel my own forehead for a fever. I couldn't remember the last time I'd not slept until Jeeves woke me with his tray.

Jeeves paused for a second, then stepped over to the bed to feel my forehead himself. His hand lingered, and I am positive I flushed furiously.

“Your temperature does not seem to indicate anything untoward, despite your... ahem... physical exertions last night, sir. However, your complexion is somewhat disconcerting. Shall I prepare a cold compress, or perhaps fetch a headache tablet?” he asked.

I almost moved to follow his hand when he retracted it. “Um, no, Jeeves. In fact, I think I'll just ankle about the gardens for a bit after breakfast, what? Fresh air and all that.”

Jeeves inclined his head respectfully. “As you say, sir. Do you wish for me to accompany you?”

I paused. Jeeves – accompany me? For a stroll around the house? My confused, fearful mind said no. Habit, however, dictated I should not move at all without Jeeves – not when surrounded by beazels and aunts.

“Why, yes, Jeeves, if you wouldn't rather stay in with an improving book?” I finally said, the Wooster mind – as was its fate – losing to other powers.

Jeeves looked positively scandalized, if that's the right word; his eyebrows nearly rose a full half inch. “It is past mid-morning, sir!”

“And?” I asked, not seeing the logic.

“One does not spend the hours reading, when one's employer may be in need of assistance,” Jeeves said, clearing his throat delicately. It sounded almost as if he was revealing a great secret, and what's more, he was more to the point than I had ever heard him before.

I suddenly realized that I had never offered Jeeves the chance to simply stay in with a book, until now. No wonder the man was confused, what? Why on earth had I not done so before? He spent enough time extracting me from the soup, as it were, and should be allowed... well, time to do whatever dark, brooding manservants do.

“I say, Jeeves, the feudal spirit be dashed today, what?”

His eyes widened fractionally, and he opened his mouth to protest. Eloquently and adequately, I should think – or whatever words signify at great length and with lots of long, fancy words.

“No, no, Jeeves, my man,” I cried, a sudden burst of inspiration alighting in the old Wooster brain at last. “Today, I shall not require you to polish a single shoe, iron a single shirt, or mix the young master a single drink! Thanks to your stellar intervention yesterday, all marital dangers seem to be avoided for the time being, and enraged aunts are once again... what's the word I'm looking for, Jeeves?”

Jeeves, still looking highly uncomfortable, said, “Perhaps _placated_ should convey your meaning, sir?”

“Yes, exactly, that's the chap. Well, I mean to say, after all that avoiding and placating, you deserve an easy day, what? I shall only ask for you to stroll round the gardens with me, after breakfast, and then you may biff off and do exactly as you like until dinner time,” I said, smiling widely at my man.

This, you see, was a rather brilliant idea of mine. I needed some more time to contemplate, seeing as I had a great many things to think about, and Jeeves should once again be properly rewarded. Letting him off for the day would accomplish both.

But most importantly, I had in mind a question I wanted to ask him. And it struck me as likely that both he and I should need time to contemplate that, as well. Therefore, the stroll was vitally important. You'll see what I mean later, if you don't already.

***

“Jeeves, have you ever thought about love?” I asked as we were ankling along a low hedge.

“Indeed, sir; your acquaintances seem to require quite frequent contemplation upon the matter.” Jeeves' hands were clasped politely behind his back as we stopped to admire the view for a moment.

“Oh, yes, but I'm not talking about infatuated Bingos or beazels set on dooming me to marriage,” I said, waving my hand about dismissively. “I mean real love, Jeeves; the kind that doesn't end with a strong profile and a beautiful smile.”

“Sir?”

“You know, like between chaps.”

“... Sir?”

“Well, didn't some poet cove or other say something about l. between c's being the best and truest kind, what?” I asked, distinctly remembering to have read something of the sort.

“I believe such was the ideal of the classical Greek society, sir,” Jeeves said slowly. “Poets such as Wilde and Crane have also... expounded upon the idea. Is there something on your mind, sir?”

“As a matter of fact, there is, Jeeves, there is,” I confirmed. “I think there's something to this they say about loving another chap, don't you know. I mean, I've had my fill of the intended marriages, and met more girls than can be good for a man, truth to be told. And I have yet to find one that I respect and admire, Jeeves.”

As you may guess, I'd given this conversation a great deal of thought before commencing it. The usual Wooster eloquence was boosted by the fact that this was an extremely important mission. It might determine the future happiness of yours truly, or so I suspected.

“Indeed, sir?” Jeeves' voice sounded odd.

I couldn't quite put my finger on it, though – the oddness, that is, not his voice, which would have been a dashed sight more difficult to put anything on at all – and so I forged ahead.

“Yes, Jeeves. Until quite recently, I've found females attractive, but ultimately ruinous to one's happiness. Wouldn't you agree?” I said, knowing Jeeves had saved me from enough engagements to know the truth of this.

“Very true, sir,” he said, inclining his head with a slight smirk. Not that anyone would notice unless looking for this particular s.s, of course, but I, having gotten used to Jeeves' moods and expressions, recognized it.

“Well, and I've met chaps who bally well impress me, Jeeves. Not many of them, I'll admit; I seem to be one of the more...” I gestured vaguely.

“Fortuitous in receiving Nature's gifts, sir?”

I smiled widely at Jeeves. “Why, thank you, old thing! Yes, that's exactly it; I have enough friends casting themselves in a bad light to make me look like the very catch of the century, where matrimony is concerned. Which is probably why all and sundry seem to think I'm going to marry their daughters, you know.”

Jeeves nodded, the almost-smile tugging at his lips making him look rather attractive. “Indeed, sir.”

“Well, anyway. Jeeves, it all comes down to this: until recently, I preferred girls for looking at, and chaps for talking to. But, after yester- um, deep and focused thinking, I think it should be better if both preferences were combined in one person, what?” I concluded, a little out of breath. This concentration thingummy was certainly taxing!

Jeeves stiffened. We had reached the small wilderness behind the house, and I was about to continue down the little path when I noticed my man had stopped.

“Jeeves?”

“Forgive me, sir,” he said smoothly, quickly resuming his steps, walking along right at my elbow. “I seem to have been caught up in my thoughts.”

My faithful black shadow. The thought made yours truly break out in another wide grin.

“Well, as I were saying, I think I should not even contemplate marriage until I find someone who's both easy on the eyes and someone whose bally company I can stand! Eh, Jeeves?”

Jeeves was very silent. He nodded, his lips pursing contemplatively. I had to look away; my body's blatant declaration that it quite fancied Jeeves, had not left the old memory, and the sight of my man's bottom lip sticking out so pen-whossname... Well, suffice it to say, it attempted to rekindle the eagerness of the early hours of dawn.

What I mean to say is, while my body told me in no uncertain terms that Jeeves was suddenly as attractive to me as any beazel had ever been, my mind was still trying to get through this blasted conversation thing, and it was more than a little confused already. Blood relocating to places where it ought not to relocate in polite company, would not exactly ease matters along.

This, you see, is why I usually leave deep contemplation and long conversations to Jeeves.

“You have found such a person, sir?” he finally asked, looking discreetly around as if making certain that no man-hunting women were lurking about the bushes.

“I think so, yes, Jeeves,” I said.

Now, if I could only tell him of my affections before actually naming their recipient! Then I could spring it on him, as a sort of surprise, don't you know, and leave him to work out the kinks and difficulties, which I'd no doubt he would do in a trice. And with any luck, by the end of the day, Jeeves would once more explain in simple terms what his young master could not quite fathom by his own brain power.

This is usually how things are done in our housekeep, you see. I saw no reason why it should not work this time round.

“May I convey my congratulations, sir,” Jeeves said, sounding dubious in that subtle way of his.

“Perhaps, Jeeves, perhaps,” I said. We were approaching a stone bench and I sat down, inviting Jeeves to sit down next to me. He did so gingerly, as if sensing the coming impropriety – or something along those lines. Very Jeevesian, anyway.

“This is a person that I not only admire for said person's general force of character, but for h- said person's outward appearance, as well. Sort of an all-in-one solution, do you see? I can't think of a single flaw in this person's... person, Jeeves; outward or... thingummy.”

Jeeves arched a questioning eyebrow. “Indeed, sir?”

“Mm, yes,” I said, trying my best to look pensive as I gazed out on the forest. “Looks, brains and... what more is there to want, Jeeves?”

Jeeves looked more hesitant by the second. “No propensity to land themselves in gaol, sir? No related politicians with tendencies towards aggressive behaviour?”

I smiled widely at him. “None at all, Jeeves. That I know of, anyway.”

Jeeves did not seem convinced. “Discreet, sir?”

“Why, the most secretive I ever met!” I declared, turning to face him fully. I was grinning from ear to ear, now – even as he listed the possible defects of my potential companion, it was becoming clearer in my mind's eye: Jeeves was dashed well perfect, in every way. If he didn't approve of all my ties, well, it was a small cross to bear.

Jeeves cleared his throat accusingly. “Sir...”

“What?” I asked, looking up at his serious face. “I tell you, Jeeves, I have found the perfect companion. All that remains, is that I ask his hand in marriage.”

Jeeves sighed, his shoulders slumping a fraction of an inch. I frowned. He looked truly distressed; more so than I had ever seen him!

“Sir, you are aware, of course, that the law expressly forbids the marriage between two men?” he said, hands folded respectfully in his lap.

I wasn't, actually. I just thought no one had come up with this positive corker of an idea sooner. The law always makes things so dashed difficult; I wondered who was responsible and should be flogged for the bally thing.

“Well, then I shall ask him to live with me until death do us part, no vows exchanged – well, not in public – and no contracts signed,” I said, a touch of defiance – if that's the word I want – entering the Wooster heart. “I shall not budge on this, Jeeves; I have found the love of my life, and just because he happens to be a cove, I think it's very unsporting of you to take up prejudice against him.”

Then my frown turned into a grin. A thought occurred to me. “I say, Jeeves, you really can't take up prejudice against him! Ha! For once, I have found a fiancé you can't _possibly_ dislike! That must be a sensation worthy of a front page in the newspapers, what?”

Jeeves' face quickly acquired that stuffed frog-look that he gets when he is particularly displeased with the young master's actions or words. Or, perhaps in this moment, both.

“As you say, sir,” he said, his tone distinctly frosty.

“Now, Jeeves, I suppose you're wondering why I said that, eh? How can I know, you must think, that you won't dislike this particular engagement?” I said, by now very pleased by having gotten round to this point in the conversation.

Jeeves' lip looked like it sorely wanted to curl into a derisive sneer, but of course, it didn't.

“It is not my place to say, sir -” he began, but I gleefully interrupted him.

“It's because it's you, Jeeves!” I cried, smiling so widely the old bean was starting to hurt at the sides. “You're the love of my life, see? So you can't possibly disapprove of the young master's choice – I've really found the goods this time, so to speak!”

There was a quiet between us then that I've never seen the like of. Usually, when Jeeves and I are in close proximity but not talking, there's always some household task being completed, someone shouting at me, tea being drunk, a gasper burning away between my lips, or a disaster unfolding noisily.

At this moment, after my gleeful declaration, the s. was nearly audible. Or is it auditory? Well, you get my meaning.

Finally, Jeeves moves his eyes to mine and asked, “Me, sir?”

“Yes, you!” I said emphatically. “It's my best idea yet, eh, Jeeves? You've got all the good qualities, without any of the female stuff. No violent fathers-in-law, irrational demands at every hour, acts of ridiculous jealousy or constant complaints of my general lack of redeeming... whatsits.”

Jeeves' face seemed to darken somehow. He straightened, turned to stare straight ahead, and his eyes hardened. My mouth fell dumbly open. I could tell when Jeeves was in a snit, and now he was bally well annoyed!

“Jeeves?”

“You certainly bring to light the beneficial pragmatic aspects of a relationship with one's valet, sir,” he said. Now his voice was disapproving, too.

“Well, yes, but Jeeves!”

“Please, sir,” he said quietly, and I fell silent. “I will notify the agency that you require a new valet. Consider this my notice, sir. Goodbye.”

Then he stood and left, striding quickly away without seeming to hurry at all.

I was dumbstruck. Staring ahead like a landed trout, I reached for my cigarette case with trembling fingers and extracted a gasper.

This was all wrong, my brain insisted. For the first time that day, my body was in wholehearted agreement. This was not at all how it was supposed to play out! He was supposed to biff off and work out a plan for us to live happily ever after – I suppose things like that require planning; I've never tried – and then explain it all to me. The feelings, the untoward physical reactions, the suddenness of it all; all this, Jeeves should have explained to me, and then the curtains would go down and all would be well in the world.

Wasn't that how they did it in the motion pictures? Yes, I distinctly remembered a dozen scenes like that; after all has been resolved, the hero and heroine – or, as the case might be, heroes – realize how the cock-up happened, forgive everything there is to forgive, and fall into each others' tender embrace. Or something.

And yet, there I sat, alone and Jeeves-less, with no valet, no hero, and no tender embrace. Dashed rummy, I know. Still, not wholly unprecedented, when Jeeves is not around to interfere. I tend to muck up rather often, though I'd prefer it if you didn't mention it too loudly.

I sighed. Now I'd gone and mucked this up, as well. And a distinctly hollow portion of my midsection suggested that this might not be the time to rely on my trusted valet to save the day.

As I began walking back towards the house, that hollow p. of my m. seemed to grow rapidly. By the time I reached the house, I felt more like an empty pot than anything else. And it occurred to me that the feeling of loneliness on the previous night, paled in comparison to what I felt now.

Too miserable to even begin to identify the little blackguards of emotion rampaging within the Wooster breast, I began trudging up the stairs towards my room, loathe to hear the cheerful laughter from the two sets of love birds in the adjoining room.

I had the sudden urge to shout, “Leave me, o cruel world!” at the top of the stairs. The only thing stopping me from doing so, was the sight of Roderick Spode, coming up said stairs at an alarming pace.

“What ho, Spode,” I said dejectedly. As if my day was not bad enough already!

“Wooster!” he roared, grasping my lapels rather forcefully. “Is this true?”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Do not act the fool with me, Wooster!” Spode bellowed, sounding quite irate. But then, he most often does, so I failed to see what this had to do with me.

“Did you break off the engagement to Madeline? _Again?_ And then you let that blathering, cowardly imbecile _Fink-Nottle_ clean up your mess?” he snarled, shaking me rather harshly.

“Calm down, man!” I shouted, trying to make myself heard over his furious growls. “I did nothing of the sort! Madeline and Gussie are in love, you ass!”

Spode seemed to become angrier still at that, and so deemed it appropriate to hoist me by my lapels and slam me against the nearest wall.

“Liar!” he roared, and the back of the Wooster bean impacted rather painfully with the wall. “You must be hell-bent on continuously breaking her heart, Wooster. Now I will break every bone in your body, starting with your neck!”

Well, I have never had reason to doubt Spode's threats, but this one was apparently even less idle than the former. His hands fastened around my neck, don't you know, and within moments, my supply of air became somewhat limited.

I'll admit to flailing about a good deal, gasping unbecomingly and wheezing at him to remove his hands from my person. But what is a chap to do, when another chap is trying earnestly to kill him?

Oddly enough, my first thought was to shout for Jeeves. I tried, too; my larynx, however, did not agree with the external pressure being applied to it, and so my croak was rather ineffectual.

“Now, Wooster, we'll see how many girls' hearts you can break while extracting your teeth from inside your throat,” Spode spat.

“Jeeves,” I wheezed, my hands tugging ineffectually at Spode's grip of death, if you'll pardon the imagery.

And wonder of wonders, Jeeves materialized behind Spode, his bowler hat in place and a heavy-looking ornament of sorts in his hands. That was about all I had time to notice, too, before a vacant expression spread over Spode's face, and he toppled forwards, bringing me down with him in a heap.

“Jeeves,” I gasped, my throat slowly expanding back to its normal breadth.

“Are you quite all right, sir?” Jeeves said, helping me to my feet and steadying me.

“Jeeves, don't go!” I wheezed. The sore throat and empty lungs could wait – Jeeves had his coat, gloves and hat on. He was ready to leave.

“Don't talk, sir,” Jeeves said quietly. “We should ascertain your laryngeal region is not damaged before you attempt to strain it.”

And with that, he whisked me off to my room, sitting me down on the bed and pouring me a brandy before I could even open my mouth again. After quickly examining my neck – dashed if I know what he was looking for, though – Jeeves seemed to have satisfied himself that I was not going to be dumb for the rest of my life.

“You seem to be unharmed, sir, save the bruises which will undoubtedly appear. If that will be all, sir?”

And just like that, he was ready to biff off and leave yours truly forever.

This time, however, Bertram Wilberforce Wooster was having none of it.

“No, that will bally well _not_ be all, Jeeves!” I said sharply, throwing back the brandy to steady my nerves. They'd been rattled pretty badly by that encounter with Spode at the stairs, don't you know. “I demand an explanation, Jeeves!”

Jeeves arched an eyebrow at me, which would have been disbelieving scorn on any other face. “Sir?”

“Yes, dash it! I realize you may well have saved me from an untimely death at the hands of Spode out there, but that is no excuse to just biff off like that, Jeeves. Don't you even have the decency to tell me why you're giving notice?”

Jeeves' back was ramrod straight, as always.

“Sir, your declarations during our walk -”

“Exactly, Jeeves!” I interrupted. “Of all the bally nerve, Jeeves, to treat a chap like that after he's just professed his undying love for you? Unsporting, old thing; extremely unsporting.”

Jeeves looked at me, his face serious. “If I may be so bold, sir, you yourself treat the young ladies who have set their matrimonial sights on you, in much the same fashion.”

I spluttered. “Jeeves! That's... that's different! I don't love them, for one! And I -”

I stopped myself, my heart dropping to the basement and beyond. Tears threatened to spring to my eyes, and there was nothing rummy about it either. Jeeves didn't love me. That was why he hadn't even _indicated_ any sort of passionate embrace was forthcoming, when such an e. was exactly the thing after a declaration like mine!

“Then you... don't love me at all, Jeeves?”

Of course, if it was one thing that Bertie Wooster had forgotten to include in his grand idea of how this love thingummy was going to play out, it was Jeeves' response. I had merely assumed that he would be overjoyed, much like all the females I constantly become engaged to. Instead, not only did he not return my sentiments, but he was going to leave my service, too!

I am loathe to admit it, but I began sobbing. The lingering constriction of my throat, however, made that rather difficult, and yet I could not make myself stop. Gasping for breaths between hopeless floods of tears, I buried my face in my hands, past caring that gentlemen do not sob, especially not in front of their valets.

Dash it, I thought; he's not even my valet anymore. I shall cry as much as I bally well please!

A pristine, white handkerchief was helpfully slipped into my hand. I blew my noise rather noisily, then wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeves. I could _feel_ Jeeves wince at the undignified action.

“Sir,” he said softly, “is it my leaving that distresses you?”

“Of course it is, you fish-fed, understated... wossname!” I wailed, looking accusingly at him. “You might have warned a chap, you know, when I started talking about chaps loving each other, that you weren't of that disposish! Then I wouldn't have made such an ass of myself!”

Jeeves slowly sat down at the bed next to me, delicately extracting the soiled handkerchief from between my limp fingers. Then he produced another, from where I can't even begin to fathom, and gently dabbed at my damp cheeks.

“I am sorry, sir,” he said, and for once, he actually sounded it. A Jeevesian apology is usually entirely an expression of something else (usually me being an ass), but this one was sincere.

“I regret having to leave your service, but I -”

“I know, I know, you don't return my sentiments,” I sniffled, trying not to pay too much attention to the way his hands were carefully putting me to rights again – straightening my collar, sleeves, and hair, and removing every salty trace of my tears.

He halted. “What, exactly, are your sentiments, sir?”

“But I told you, Jeeves! I love you! You're the love of my life, dash it! If you can't remember that, then I suggest we increase your ration of fish!” I muttered, more than a little distracted by how his talented hands were straightening my tie.

“You'll forgive me for saying so, sir, but by the tenor of your explanation of your _idea_ to me this morning in the gardens, it was apparent that your feelings are of a more... pragmatic nature,” he said, and he didn't sound too chipper himself.

Those t. h's finally left the Wooster person, leaving me capable of answering.

“What pragmatic nature, Jeeves? I found the perfect companion; I expect there'll be feelings of all kinds of natures!”

Jeeves cleared his throat. “Do you mean to say, sir, that you do not express an interest in my... companionship... merely because it is practical?”

I about rolled my eyes at him, then. “You know, for the brainiest cove this side in the civilized world, you're not in your best shape today, Jeeves. I love you; I can't understand how that should be offensive!”

A look of something akin to relief flew over Jeeves' face. He was a veritable fountain of human emotion today!

“Sir,” he said, and his voice was rapidly warming. “I apologize. I gathered from your words earlier that you merely viewed the possibility of a liaison between us as the ´easiest way out`, if you'll pardon the vernacular. I was wrong.”

I didn't understand, I'll admit that. “I don't understand, Jeeves.”

He sighed. “I thought you did not love me, sir, but merely opted for the simplest method of living comfortably.”

I understood that, at least. I smiled shakily at him. “Oh. So it's all a case of wrongly minced words, then?”

Jeeves almost smiled back. “Precisely, sir. And now, if you'll allow me...”

And then the man leaned in, slowly, and placed a light kiss on my lips. I very nearly swooned; the surprise was pleasant, but overwhelming.

“Jeeves!” I gasped when he lifted his lips from mine. “Do you... that is to say, you love me?”

Jeeves' lips threatened to curl into a smirk, but, being the lips of a perfect valet, refrained.

“I do not know, sir, if what I feel for you has yet developed to the stage that one would call ´love`. I know, however, that I am deeply infatuated with you, and have been so for years.” He smiled slightly, and leaned in to murmur in my ear, “And I have desired you since the first time I assisted you in undressing for your bath.”

This made me blush a little. To know that Jeeves had been lusting after me while I was in the bath, well, it was rather flattering, don't you know!

“Oh! Um, well, right-ho, then, Jeeves,” I stammered, hesitantly taking his hand in mine. “Then perhaps you wouldn't mind explaining to me the correct procedure of handling this thingummy my body's been up to since yesterday? The condition seems to be vaguely related to seeing _you_ in the tub, you see.”

Jeeves' eyes darkened. “Very good, sir.”

One of his large hands descended towards a certain part of the Wooster anatomy which had already stood up to be taken notice of, if you get me. I emitted a whimper, and wanted to kiss Jeeves again. I was about to do so when there was a loud hammering on the door.

“Wooster! Wooster, you swine, I know you're in there!”

Jeeves stood up swiftly, leaving me confused on the bed.

“What?” I asked the room at large.

“Sir, please, follow my lead,” Jeeves said urgently, then pushed me down on the bed until I was lying sprawled across it. Then he laid a hand against my forehead, and called, “Mr. Spode! Please, enter.”

I was about to kick up a fuss, when the door rattled loudly.

“It's locked!” came Spode's angry growl.

Jeeves' lips parted, preparing to reply, when the door flew off its hinges and Spode exploded into the room, glaring wildly about.

“Where is he?” he snarled, then caught sight of me. “Wooster!”

“Mr. Spode, please,” Jeeves said, not sternly but not bally softly, either! “Mr. Wooster is suffering a nervous breakdown, it would appear. I surmised as much when he stumbled into his room after your, ahem, discussion in the hallway.”

I caught on and gave a wail, tossing my head back and forth. I threw in a bit of shuddering, too, just to get rid of old Spode faster.

The latter didn't seem convinced. “Nervous breakdown?”

“Yes, sir,” Jeeves said, then dabbed at my brow with his handkerchief. “I suspect the lack of oxygen must have affected Mr. Wooster's brain. Observe the red hue to his complexion and uneven breathing. I must remove him to familiar surroundings at once, Mr. Spode; his weakened psyche could not possibly take the added strain of coming to in unfamiliar rooms.”

I gave a weak wail again, then promptly fainted. Well, I affected to faint, that is. Jeeves picked me up, hefting me in his arms, then slung me over his shoulder.

“I will send for our luggage. Please give Mr. Wooster's regards to the lady of the house, Mr. Spode. Good day.”

And just like that, Jeeves was carrying my prone form down the stairs and out into our automobile. He arranged me comfortably in the front seat, pulling a blanket over me as if tucking me in for the night, and then got into the driver's seat.

“Jeeves! What's going on?”

It was aunt Dahlia. I remained huddled in the front seat, not giving a whisper of motion to show I was awake.

“I'm afraid, madam, that your nephew is suffering from a nervous breakdown. Mr. Spode's stranglehold on his neck seems to have damaged his brain. Whether it is permanent, I could not say. I must take him to see his physician in London,” Jeeves said, then undoubtedly tipped his hat in greeting and drove off.

A few minutes later, Jeeves said, “You may sit up if you wish, sir. We are no longer visible from Brinkley Court.”

I sat up, stretching. “Jeeves, you're a marvel! What on earth possessed you to cook up such a scheme?” I said, gleefully thinking of the three more days I was supposed to have spent at Brinkley with the love birds and an angry Spode. “Where do you suppose Spode came from, anyway?”

“I believe Mr. Spode had stopped at Brinkley in order to visit Miss Bassett, sir,” Jeeves said, looking as smug as I had ever seen him. “As for our timely escape, I must confess it was motivated solely by my desire to remove to the privacy of the London flat, sir. I believe you requested a demonstration?”

I flushed again, smiling bashfully at my manservant. “Oh, rather!”

One more question, however, was prodding at the Wooster brain.

“Jeeves, just one more thing. Why did you, well, hug me – last night, that is?” I asked, looking with a great big grin up at my manservant. “Not very Jeevesian, I must say!”

Jeeves' lips did curl then, ever so slightly until I was positive the man was doing his own personal interpretation of a smile.

“I admit, sir, that seeing you in such a state appealed to my, ahem, more tender instincts,” he said. At my confused look, he explained, “You looked positively pathetic, sir. I could not resist offering my comfort, such as it was.”

I laughed. “Jeeves, you surprise me. But carry on, old thing; I should not be... advert?”

“Adverse, sir.”

“Ah, yes. Well, I should not be adverse to another tender embrace in the future, Jeeves.”

“Very good, sir.”

***

Once we were once again ensconced in the London flat, I turned to face Jeeves, intending to ask him what came next. I'd never done this mutual declaration of love before, you see, and I thought he might know what to do about it.

I got as far as, “I say, Jeeves,” before he stood quite close to me. Much closer than is customary for valets and their masters, I'm sure. I hadn't really thought about how tall Jeeves was until he was rather looming over me like a great, looming... whatsit.

I blinked up at him. “I say, Jeeves,” I said again, and was promptly disrupted as my valet's tongue somehow found itself inside my mouth. It felt dashed odd, but very pleasant, and I contributed the oddness to the fact that it was, after all, my first time kissing anyone by the French method.

Jeeves' arm was around my waist, pressing our bodies close together, and then his hand – the other one, most likely; not the one around my waist – was cupping my cheek. I could feel myself turn into something liquid and unstable in his embrace.

“I say, Jeeves,” I repeated, when his tongue finally vacated my mouth. I was feeling rather dizzy, I don't mind saying. “That feels, well, topping!”

“I am gratified to hear it, sir,” he said, and his teeth caught on my earlobe for a moment. “Would you like me to proceed?”

“With what, Jeeves?” I asked, holding on to Jeeves' shoulders for bare life. I was rather sure I'd fall through the floor if I didn't, you know.

“With explaining to you, sir, how to properly handle the physical reactions you mentioned this morning at Brinkley Court,” Jeeves said, and then his lips were on mine again.

They left much sooner this time, though.

“Um, yes, Jeeves, if you wouldn't mind throwing in some demonstrations as well. The young master was always more of a... what do we call it, Jeeves?” I asked, eagerly watching Jeeves' surprisingly soft lips in anticipation.

“A man of action, sir?”

I grinned, seeing the disdainful curl of Jeeves' lips around the phrase. “Quite. Um, yes. So, about this demonstration thingummy...”

“I believe, sir,” Jeeves said with a slight smile, “that if we were to relocate to the bedroom, the demonstrations would be more beneficial.”

“Right-ho, then!” I said cheerfully. Then I frowned. “How so, Jeeves?”

“A horizontal surface of sufficient padding is advisable, sir.”

“Oh! Ah, yes, quite. I see what you mean, old thing. Quite, quite. Um. Carry on, then, Jeeves.”

Jeeves merely arched an eyebrow and took my gloves and hat. “If you'll allow me, sir.”

Then he indicated I should enter the master bedroom, and I did so. I've found that following Jeeves' advice usually is just the thing to do. As such, I also followed his directions that I get undressed, though I felt quite foolish standing in the middle of my bedroom without a single stitch on. Finally, Jeeves suggested I lay down on the bed.

“And you will be joining me, I suppose, Jeeves?” I asked, blushing quite violently.

“Indeed, sir,” he said. His eyes were practically glowing, and I felt confident the Wooster corpus was at least partially responsible for it. The glowing, I mean.

Jeeves slowly peeled off his own layers of clothing, and I followed his movements raptly. When he was finally down to his underthings, he lingered for a moment, looking intently in my general direction. I almost looked behind me to see if anyone else was there.

“How far are you willing to take this liaison, sir?” he asked, pulling his undershirt off and folding it before placing it over the nearest chair. He'd folded all his clothes. Valet instincts, I suppose.

“Why, as far as it can be taken, Jeeves,” I said, puzzled. “We Woosters never fail in the face of a challenge. Why?”

Jeeves almost smiled at me. “Then we shall require a substance to act as lubricant, sir. I shall return directly.”

He shimmered out of the room, and I barely had time to say, “I say!”, dismayed at his sudden disappearance, before he was back. He held something in his hand, but I couldn't quite see what it was. Then he shed his last layer of clothing, and joined me on the bed. Naked.

My mouth was hanging open, probably giving me that look of “dumb adoration” that the Bassett horror fancied she saw in my visage any time I went near her. Jeeves looked just like I remembered him from the previous night, if a little less wet.

His skin was much coarser and darker than my own. It was probably what the health fanatics refer to as a ´tan`, though Lord knows what they mean by it. It's supposed to be good for you, at any rate, and it was certainly doing Jeeves' physique a whole lot of good! The man's lightly haired chest, broad and toned, was just the sort of thing to activate the salivary glands, if you know what I mean.

“Jeeves,” I began, then halted. Jeeves? It occurred to me that I'd heard his first name once, and that it would probably be more proper to use that instead of calling him Jeeves. I couldn't for the life of me remember said f.n. though.

“Um... What's your real name, Jeeves?”

My valet's eyes twinkled seriously. “Please, call me Jeeves, sir.”

My eyebrows rose in surprise, I don't mind saying. “Call you Jeeves? But wouldn't you like me to... That is to say, is it quite right of me to call you Jeeves while we're about to do the sheet Charleston like this?”

Jeeves' cheeks acquired a slight tinge of colour, as if he was merely thinking about blushing. “Sir, my given name is Reginald. I much prefer to hear you call me Jeeves, sir. It sounds quite appealing, coming from your lips.”

I smiled brightly. “Right-ho! But Jeeves... you may call me Bertie, if you like. Or Bertram, though only my aunts ever call me that, so I suppose it would rather dampen the fun, what?”

Jeeves inclined his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement, then shifted closer to me. We were lying, or rather, sitting... or a mix between the two, anyway... close to each other already, and Jeeves moved until I could feel the heat coming off his body.

“Very good... Bertie.”

I very nearly groaned when he said that. To hear Jeeves call me anything other than ´sir` or ´Mr. Wooster` sends a kind of sparks through the old Wooster corpus, don't you know, even though I'd never realized it before.

“Now, would you like me to commence the demonstration, sir?” he asked, stroking an appreciative hand down my side.

I shivered under his touch. “Um, actually, I was rather thinking I might be permitted a little tour of the grounds first, Jeeves. If you don't mind?”

Jeeves' eyes flared with heat. “Not at all.” He slowly rolled onto his back, leaning up on his elbow, and looked expectantly at me. “I am completely at your disposal, Bertie.” There was a certain smirk about him as he said that, but I didn't quite catch it, so I left it hanging in the air for the time being. If that's what one says.

Eagerly, I got to my knees on the bed next to Jeeves. Not having been in the same room as another chap in the altogether since I was quite young, I'd never really taken the time to notice another chap's body, either.

Jeeves' b. was magnificent. I've already expounded upon his chest, and I fell to curiously touching this part of my man. The skin was warm, and firm, stretching nicely over light muscle and a solid ribcage. I somehow doubt that I could have gotten my arms all the way round that s.r. even if I'd tried; it was bally well massive!

His stomach, too, was smooth and firm under my touch, if a little less defined. I quite liked it, but progressed to other fields in the realm of the Jeevesian body. The man himself is quite massive, don't you know, so I had quite a lot to explore. Not by way of fat – I couldn't find much of that on Jeeves – but there seemed to be a mile or two of skin stretching from his wonderfully brainy head to his toes, curling against the bedsheets.

My brow creased. “Jeeves?” Toe-curling isn't, to my knowledge, a sign of relaxation. Unless it's a Viking thing.

“Sir,” Jeeves said, his breathing quite heavy. “I'm afraid your touches are more invigorating than I was prepared for.”

I smiled again, sheepishly this time. “Oh, well, thanks awfully, old thing!”

Then I stroke my hands back up his legs, over his hips, and up to his shoulders. I dipped my head to press my lips to his neck. His throat rumbled under my lips, and his hands slowly stroke down my back.

“I say, Jeeves,” I exclaimed, when he sort of heaved under me, almost dislodging me from his chest. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, sir – Bertie. Quite the opposite,” Jeeves said. His voice was quite breathy, don't you know, and I wondered what I'd done to make him sound like that.

“Well, why do you sound like I've just punctured your lung like Barmy's water bottle, then?” I asked, sitting up a bit to look more fully into Jeeves' face. His cheeks were flushed, and I grinned. “You're positively blushing, Jeeves.”

“Your lips,” Jeeves said, and I frowned. What had happened to the usual Jeevesian eloquence?

“What about them, old thing?” I asked. I was seated right across Jeeves' body, rather like when riding a horse, and our arousals were both rubbing against parts of the other's anatomy where they probably should not rub. It felt dashed pleasant!

“Your, ah, oral explorations, sir -”

“Call me Bertie again, would you, Jeeves?”

“Bertie. Your lips, applied just so to my earlobe...”

“Oh, rather!” I said, grinning now. “Do you like it, Jeeves?”

Jeeves blushed even darker at that! “... Yes, Bertie. Very much.”

With a victorious chuckle, I dove back in, attaching my lips more firmly to said e. It was awfully bracing, how Jeeves immediately groaned and clutched at my shoulders. I took his earlobe between my teeth, nibbling a little, and applied my tongue as well. Jeeves deserved the very best attention.

“Bertie!” he gasped, and I felt his hard flesh push against my thigh. “Oh, Bertie!”

“I say, Jeeves. You're not quite up to your usual verbal standards today,” I said, sitting up again. I smiled broadly at my man, lying panting and all but crimson beneath me. In the face, that is; the rest of his body was of a rather normal hue.

“I would ask, sir, that you desist in your endeavour to ingest my earlobe,” Jeeves said, and his voice was almost pleading!

My smile dimmed somewhat. Or, whatever is that word starting with a di- that means, becomes less big than it already is. “But I thought you liked it!”

“Indeed, sir,” Jeeves ground out, and his darkened cheeks looked awfully endearing. “However, it renders me somewhat...”

I tried to follow him. “You mean to say, Jeeves, that when the young master applies the lips to your earlobe, you are quite undone?”

Jeeves looked resolutely into the ceiling. “Precisely, sir.”

“By Jove!” I said, my smile blooming back to its fullest. “I shall do no such thing! The sight of you, all blushing and ineloquent, why, it's an absolute pleasure to behold, Jeeves!”

Jeeves looked somewhat flustered, but smiled ever so slightly in return. “It's good of you to say so, sir.”

“Bertie,” I insisted, then dove back to lick once more over the much discussed earlobe.

“Be-uuuuh,” Jeeves moaned, and I finally moved to kiss him once more.

“Now, Jeeves, show me other places to attack,” I said, grinning widely. “I must have you reduced to babbling at least once before we start this demonstration thingy.”

Jeeves gently sat up, and I was pushed to the bed, where I stretched out comfortably. “Surely, Bertie, you can imagine quite a few such... locations yourself? I must confess myself hesitant to accept your claim that you have absolutely no experience in these matters...”

I sat up. “Oi! What's that supposed to mean, Jeeves?”

He arched an eyebrow at me. “Merely, sir, that one so skilled with his tongue -”

I caught up. “Oh! No, really, Jeeves, I was just touring the grounds, as I said, and then you started bucking and moaning and whatnot. A stroke of luck, I assure you.”

“Well, sir, then I shall endeavour to discover equivalents of such locations on your own body, so as to _even the score_ , as they say,” Jeeves said with a slight smirk. He rolled over me, gently spreading my legs until he was cradled between them.

This, of course, caused our manhoods to become rather intimately acquainted. I let out a cry and wrapped my limbs around Jeeves, interested in nothing but drawing his body as close to my own as I possibly could.

“Jeeves!” I moaned. “Please!”

Jeeves' cheeks were once more tinged with red. He looked down at me, and his eyes were glittering darkly. “Bertie?”

“Touch me, Jeeves,” I begged, wanting to feel his hands on my hardness. Or anywhere else, for that matter. “Please?”

Jeeves' face was indescribable. His cheeks blushing, his eyes widening and drunk with desire, and his mouth was hanging slightly open – as if Jeeves had suddenly lost his complete mastery of his own emotions and the display of said e's.

“Sir...”

And right then and there, I understood. “You're embarrassed!”

He looked away, chagrined. “Sir, please...”

“No, no, Jeeves! You blush at the very words! And you were to demonstrate the practice?” I grinned, chuckling. “I thought I was the only novice in the room! Or, bed, as it were.”

Jeeves almost pouted at that. “Bertie. I am not inexperienced in affairs of love. It is merely the verbal expression of such matters that cause me... discomfort.”

I looked up at him, agog as a thing that gogs. “Jeeves! You mean to say, that in spite of having made love to other coves before, you don't like it when I talk about it?”

Jeeves dipped his head to whisper in my ear again, and I shuddered. “I do like it, sir. However, the terms are most offensive, and my sensibilities do not agree with my body on this matter.”

I laughed delightedly. “Then I shall do the talking, Jeeves, and you the demonstrating. You will not deny me the joy of asking you what I want, what?”

Jeeves looked relieved, and kissed me briefly before answering. “No, indeed, Bertie. I would never deny you anything that brought you pleasure or joy. Excepting, of course, public display of the very vilest of your wardrobe's content.”

I laughed again at that. “Excellent, Jeeves. Now kiss me, and let the demonstration start.”

Jeeves complied. His lips locked firmly to mine, he stroked those talented hands of his down my torso, his fingernails lightly raking the skin. Well, that felt jolly well topping, and I wasted no time in letting him know.

“Oh, yes, Jeeves, more?” I pleaded, my body arching into the touch all on its own.

He slid down my body until his face was hovering over my hardness, and I looked eagerly at him. Holding my gaze, he opened his lips as if to speak, but then apparently decided against it, because not a sound was uttered by him. Instead, he suddenly had the aforementioned hardness inside his mouth, like I had previously had his tongue inside mine. My mouth, that was, not my tongue.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, and my legs twitched under his hands as my hardened flesh twitched under his talented tongue. Make no mistake about it; that tongue was just as talented as his hands, if not more so!

“Oh, Jeeves! Jeeves, yes, oh, oh, oh!”

Just as my moaning was reaching fever pitch, Jeeves pulled off me, and quickly moved back up to kiss me again. I was shuddering, still aching for my imminent completion.

“I wish to share everything with you tonight, Bertie,” he murmured in my ear. “And I wish not to make you... climax...” Here, his face almost reverted to the stuffed frog-look, though a more embarrassed one, “before I am fully joined with you.”

I was in no condition to complain; his tongue and his hands had already lured me to the brink of the abyss and then told me no, not today, old chap. I would agree to most anything if said t. and h's would just shove me in!

“Yes, yes, Jeeves, whatever you say,” I gasped, wrapping my limbs around him once more in a pleading fashion. “Join all you like. Just do it quickly, please!”

Jeeves' eyes flashed with hunger. “You are quite sure, sir?”

“Only if you'll call me Bertie a few times in-between all the sir-ing,” I smiled faintly. “Please?”

Jeeves sat back on his heels, then held out a smallish bottle. It was the thing he'd fetched just before ridding himself of his final vestments, if I wasn't much mistaken.

“This, sir, will aid our endeavours to learn, I believe.”

I looked at it. Looked like perfectly good liquid stuff to me, but I couldn't for the life of me imagine what Jeeves wanted it for. “Well, what is it?”

“This is olive oil, sir; commonly used in cooking, skincare, fuel for lamps and a number of other circumstances. It is extracted from -” Jeeves began, but I was in no mood for a lecture.

“Dash its extraction, Jeeves; what are you going to use it for?”

Jeeves' cheeks reddened ever so slightly again. “It is advisable, sir, to lubricate certain anatomical portions before attempting to, ahem, cause friction between them. Failure to do so could result in a most painful condition.”

I sat up eagerly, but Jeeves' hands on my shoulders gently guided me to lie back down.

“It would be better if you lie down for this... Bertie.”

I did so, reluctantly. I was rather eager to have another try at Jeeves' earlobe, don't you know, but my manservant seemed to know better in matters of the flesh, so I aqui... acquai... well, something that begins with acqu, anyway.

He spread my legs further apart, situating himself between them. I watched him with interest as he removed the cork from the bottle, and poured a little into his hand. He rubbed the oil between his fingers, and looked down at me, undisguised lust in his eyes.

“Put your legs on my shoulders, Bertie.”

That seemed a dashed odd request, but I did my best in complying. Jeeves took hold of my calves, and a moment later, my ankles were resting on either side of my manservant's neck. Jeeves was almost blushing again when he touched an oiled finger to my skin.

“Oh,” I gasped. Jeeves' clever finger was pushing against a part of my body that, well, I didn't think any living person would ever have interest of seeing. “I say, Jeeves! Why... why are you doing that?”

That finger slid inside me, and I gasped again. That felt rather lovely, I don't mind saying!

“I am preparing you, sir, for more pleasurable activities,” Jeeves murmured, then stroked his finger in and out of me a few times for good measure.

I cried out, wriggling about on the sheets. Well, of all the rummy things... This was heavenly! I could certainly see the merits of this finger business!

“Two fingers now, sir,” Jeeves said, blushing darkly as he did so, and I felt my body being stretched in a place I didn't even know I had things to stretch.

But I'll be dashed if I wasn't feeling more bucked up than I ever have before.

“Jeeves,” I moaned, my hips jerking a little against his hand, all by their own doing. “Would you... do that a little faster?”

Jeeves groaned, and leaned in quickly to kiss me hard. This had the added effect of rather doubling me up, and Jeeves' fingers sunk deeper into me, and I screamed with pleasure against Jeeves' clever lips.

Everything about the man seemed more ingenious than ever, today.

“Are you ready, Bertie?” Jeeves hissed against my lips, as if unwilling to stop kissing me.

“For what?” I asked, my head spinning with the extraordinary taste of Jeeves' mouth. My fingers had somehow gotten tangled with his hair, but neither of us appeared to mind.

Jeeves stopped then, pulling back to look at me. “Sir,” he asked, sounding rather incredulous (by his standards, of course – anyone who didn't know Jeeves as well as I do, would hardly have noticed the slight arch of his eyebrows), “are you not aware of what I intend to do?”

“By no means, Jeeves,” I sighed happily. “I haven't an inkling. But carry on, my dear man; I'm sure it will all turn out beautifully.”

Jeeves almost smiled at that. “Bertie,” he whispered. “You are too trusting. It would not be right of me to...”

He frowned slightly, then said, “I intend to... Bertie, I am going to insert... Ahem.”

His polite cough sounded bally well mortified! I grinned, looking up at his face, framed between my legs, as it were.

“None of this shyness, man. Tell me, Jeeves – what are you going to do to the old Wooster corpus?”

Jeeves closed his eyes briefly, then took my hand, guiding it between us until it folded around his aroused flesh. My eyes widened lustfully, and I stroke it inquisitively. By Jove, I could hardly fit my hand around it!

“I say, Jeeves,” I said, licking my lips. “You're bally well massive!”

Jeeves' eyes flickered to the bedsheets again, avoiding mine. “I am sure you are too kind, sir. Bertie...” His hand guided mine to give his hardness another pull. “This... is going to be inside your body. If you'll allow me the honour.”

I spluttered. “Hardly, Jeeves! What on earth do you want me to do with the thing?”

Jeeves chuckled sheepishly at that, if such a thing is possible and I was not merely hallucinating. Jeeves – sheepish? Never!

“Do you feel my fingers inside you, Bertie?”

I wiggled a little. “Well, I'd almost forgotten they were there, to be frank; you look so dashed appealing when you blush.”

That caused him to almost smirk again. “Again, sir, you are too kind. But if you'll allow me...”

Then another slippery digit made its way inside me, and I moaned again.

“Oh, yes,” I agreed, “quite.”

“This space will not be occupied by my fingers much longer, Bertie.”

I began to form a pensive frown, until I quite suddenly realized what he meant.

“Oh!”

“Indeed, sir. Do you still wish to proceed?” Jeeves asked softly, moving those fingers in a dashed distracting way.

“Mm,” I muttered, my eyes fluttering closed. My legs twitched a bit where they rested against Jeeves' broad shoulders.

“Bertie. Please. Tell me at once if you do not desire this. I fear I will not be able to stop once I begin.”

I opened my eyes again to see the longing in my manservant's eyes. My own ditto boggled with surprise.

“I say, Jeeves! Of course I want this... thingummy. I want this...” And here I closed a hand around his straining erection. “... inside me. I'm just bally well not sure what I'm supposed to do about it, my man.”

And I wasn't; I had the vague suspicion that Jeeves was supposed to be doing the main work, so to speak, but surely I had to contribute in some way, what?

“Oh, sir,” Jeeves murmured, and kissed me once more. I sighed into his mouth, my body melting into a puddle between Jeeves and the mattress in spite of my rather double-bent posish.

“All that is required of you, is that you lie still and relax, Bertie. The more you are able to surrender, the easier and less uncomfortable the experience will be,” Jeeves told me warmly, and his fingers had never left my body.

“Well, right-ho, then,” I said, and now it was my voice that was sounding breathy and needy. “Put my fate in your hands, eh, Jeeves?”

Jeeves' eyes flared with heat. He briefly withdrew his fingers, causing yours truly to whimper in a manly fashion, and then reached for the oil again. Within moments, he had both of us covered in the slippery stuff, and then his fingers were back inside me, caressing.

I moaned, loudly.

Jeeves removed his fingers, shifted my hips closer to his own, and with a final groan, pushed into me. At least, I was fairly sure that was what he was doing, despite my never having been pushed into – I could feel something that was a dashed sight bigger than those fingers, sliding into a part of the Wooster body that should not be mentioned in mixed society.

“Jeeves!” I gasped, my fingers scratching against his impossibly broad back. “Jeeves!”

He stilled, our hips pressed as close together as they could possibly be, and looked directly into my eyes. “Bertie... Am I hurting you?”

I wriggled again. It was quite uncomfortable, but of course, nothing like being strangled by Spode. And Jeeves' lips went to my neck, kissing gently, and I melted again.

“No, Jeeves,” I finally stuttered. “Please... Jeeves...”

I had no idea what to ask for. Neither did I know what was expected of me, now that this inserting business was accomplished.

Jeeves drew back a little, and rocked forwards again. This drove him fully into me, and I cried out at the mere closeness and the incredible feeling of Jeeves possessing me fully.

“Oh, Bertie, Bertie,” he whispered, his mouth right at my ear. The sound alone made me moan, even though my knees were now pressed to my chest, quite removing any excess breath save the very required minimum to remain conscious.

With slow, deep thrusts, Jeeves began sliding in and out of me. My hands, quite in the way no matter where I put them, finally fisted the bedsheets desperately, clenching in the soft fabric. When I had called him massive, it had not been an understatement: every inch of me was covered in Jeeves, it would seem, inside and out.

He stilled again, looking down at me with hectic spots of colour in his cheeks, then smiled slightly. “Can you breathe, sir?”

I shook my head, managing a wheezed, “Never mind, Jeeves, but no.”

Jeeves slowly readjusted our positions so that my legs were curled around his waist rather than his neck, as it had felt like previous. This allowed for more oxygen to fill the Wooster lungs, and I drew a shuddering breath.

It also allowed me to put the old hands about Jeeves' neck again, and I pulled him down for another kiss.

“What does one call this, Jeeves?” I murmured, nipping a little at his lips.

“Making love,” Jeeves purred, sinking deeply into me once more. I arched my back to gain more contact.

“Compromising one's honour,” Jeeves continued, eyes dark with desire.

I cried out again as Jeeves' flesh inside me touched something that made my eyes explode out of my head and my body tighten until it must have been painful. I was in no condition to say; I could barely remember my own name, so lost was I in pleasure.

“And... in the vernacular?” I panted, clawing at the skin under my fingers.

“I believe...” Kiss. “... it is called...” Thrust, oh dear God! “... buggering, sir.”

My eyes rolled back in my head. When I once again made use of them to gaze up at Jeeves, he was blushing heavily, but almost smiling as he moved within me.

“Jeeves,” I moaned. “Jeeves, yes! More... more!”

And never one to baulk at a direct order from his master, Jeeves began moving faster, panting against my neck, until all I could do was shout his name in desperate need. The abyss was once more approaching; I knew one ought to warn Jeeves of the imminent stickiness, but I had no time to warn anyone of anything – Jeeves had closed one of his large hands around my own erection and begun stroking.

His name a mere whimper on my lips, I climaxed forcefully between us, bucking into his touch. All I could feel was Jeeves' skin and heat, and I'm afraid I made quite a racket. The world somehow shrunk to the heavenly feeling of Jeeves and I on the bed, and I floated off into near unconscious pleasure.

“Jeeves,” I whimpered, feeling his hand release my manhood after my climax. “Jeeves! That was...” I quite gave up trying to form coherent sentences, opting instead to seek out Jeeves' earlobe with my eager lips.

“Bertie, please,” he hissed, rocking faster against me. Or, rather, into me. “Please, may I -”

Just then, a groan like nothing I'd ever heard before emanated from my man's chest, rumbling through the room like an erupting volcano or whatnot. I could feel him shudder violently in my arms, his entire frame stiff as a board, and I realized he had just reached his own pinnacle of pleasure. With great heaving breaths, he sank down over me, his flesh still buried inside me.

“I say,” I said weakly, blanketed by quite a considerable amount of Jeeves. “Jeeves...”

Jeeves gently disentangled us, and I gasped as his softening manhood slipped from my body. He rather collapsed on the bed next to me, lying on his side to face me, the light of a Soul's Awakening streaming from his eyes until I was almost embarrassed to meet said e's. True, I loved him dearly. But this was Jeeves! Before today, I'd never so much as seen the man smile!

“Forgive me, sir,” Jeeves muttered, “if I took a liberty. I should have warned you before... ahem...”

“What, buggering me? I thought you warned me pretty fairly, old chap,” I said, my body still quivering in a number of places that had received Jeeves' attentions.

He looked to the ceiling, once more obviously embarrassed. And I tell you, a man like Jeeves must be very embarrassed indeed before it is noticed by one Bertram Wilberforce!

“I was referring to the, ahem, conclusion of said activity, sir. The... inevitable climax,” he said. Then he met my eyes steadily, despite the charming blush adorning his handsome features.

I was about to ask him what he was talking about when it occurred to me that the stickiness was not a unique feature of the Wooster pleasure. I chuckled at him. “Oh. Well, that. Ah, yes. Um... I don't suppose it does a chap any harm, Jeeves?”

He looked at me, a small upwards turn of the lips indicating that he found this amusing. “Indeed, sir. However, if you did not wish me to -”

“Nonsense, old chap,” I said, sighing happily. I was quite content to just lie there for the rest of my life, don't you know, basking in the whatsit of satisfaction. “I say, I think I should like you to... whatsit... our encounter like that every time you bugger me in the future, Jeeves.”

Jeeves' eyes widened ever so slightly, and his blush darkened and extended to cover his entire face and neck, by Jove!

“Sir!”

I frowned, the fighting spirit hastily vacating the Wooster breast. “Oh, er, I suppose we don't have to do any more buggering, Jeeves, if you didn't like it. I just thought... never mind.”

Jeeves almost-smiled sheepishly once more, and laid his arm around me, pulling us together until I could rest my head on his shoulder. I saw faint red marks there; undoubtedly from my fingers.

“Sir... Bertie... I should not mind repeating our indiscretion, frequently and with great vigour. However, hearing you say such words -”

“Say no more, my dear man,” I said, grinning happily against his shoulder. “I won't ask you to bugger me. Er, make love to me. I shall instead ask you to be indiscreet with me.”

Jeeves gently kissed my forehead. “I think my feelings for you have changed since we conversed this morning, sir. When I said that I was not certain whether my feelings for you ran deep enough to be called love, I could not have been of sound mind.”

I felt my heart soar, if one may be permitted such sappiness. “Does that mean, Jeeves, that you do love me?”

“Most ardently, sir.” Another kiss. “I confess to being surprised by your direct speech and straightforwardness with regard to physical intimacy, sir, considering you were not experienced in such matters.”

“Well, we Woosters are a courageous lot, Jeeves, if not the brainiest coves,” I said, yawning in my valet's embrace. “I may not speak the language, but I can jolly well see the appeal of the country!”

A soft chuckle from Jeeves is not a thing often witnessed by mere mortals, but I suppose that since he'd just _been indiscreet_ with me, I deserved the pleasure of hearing it.

“Indeed, sir. ... Would you like me to unpack our luggage before dinner?”

“Never mind dinner, Jeeves! And dash the luggage. I want you to stay here. A nap seems in order, what? We shall worry about food later. The luggage can hang for all I care.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Just one more thing, Jeeves. Would you call me Bertie again? I should sleep better for having heard it once more...”

“Very good... Bertie. If I may be permitted, I should treasure the indulgence of calling you by your given name when we are alone. But please do not expect me to call you such in company.”

At least, this is what Jeeves tells me he said. I was asleep shortly after he'd said my name. There is something infinitely reass-what-d'you-call-it about hearing Jeeves murmur one's name fondly.

My man Jeeves really is a marvel.


End file.
